


Gravity

by SharpestRose



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:10:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestRose/pseuds/SharpestRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boromir and Pippin have a chat about Merry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity

_**Boromir:** We cannot stay here! This will be the death of the hobbits!_  
\- The Fellowship of the Ring, extended DVD version.

-

Nightfall. Breathing still hurts from the ice on the wind. Pippin's jaw aches from the force of the chatter-clicking his teeth performed throughout the day. Merry has been quiet since they turned back on the mountain, silent but for the sniffles of his running nose.

The look on Merry's face reminds Pippin so much of Merry's father, who has a dozen different stern expressions in his armoury and then an extra one, one Pippin has only seen once. Four years ago at a Spring market, Saradoc watching as the laughing tweenaged girls danced with flowers in their hair and then Esmerelda was tugging on her husband's ear in reprimand as if he were a tween himself. Saradoc's scowl had been wounded thunder, and now Pippin sees it once again on Merry.

"What is it, Merry? What's wrong?"

"He wants to take It to his city, Pippin. Can't you see that's his plan? He doesn't care a whit if we freeze into lumps of ice." And with a new set of his jaw that's less indignant than it is betrayed, Merry walks away.

"Such fits of pique are common in one his age," Boromir says, coming to stand beside Pippin. It seems the Man saw the argument but didn't overhear the words spoken, and Pippin is glad that Boromir is spared that small injury. For a fleeting moment Pippin can't help but wonder what age it is that Boromir puts on Merry, but he shoves the thought aside.

"Why, you're almost frozen. Come, sit under my cloak and be warmed." Boromir sits down against the high rock wall they've made their camp beside, opening his arms to welcome Pippin. And, oh, but the warmth is inviting, and Pippin burrows in with a sigh. Boromir sighs too, not exactly a lonely sound but not exactly _not_ either, and Pippin thinks again of Saradoc and the dancing girls. Just a chance to watch, to daydream, is that so much for any heart to ask? Pippin thinks Merry would say he was too young to understand and judge things like that, but Pippin thinks he probably knows more than Merry thinks he does.

"Don't let Merry's moods trouble you, little one. Some of the friends we make in this world are apt to wear stern countenances. Your Merry reminds me of the people of the plains, their faces are fair but not given to smiling easily."

"He didn't use to be like that," Pippin says mournfully. "It's just lately, and not all the time."

"It's part of growing up. In time you may find your own manner gaining gravity."

Pippin snorts against the softness of Boromir's shoulder. "I certainly hope not."

That makes Boromir laugh, his broad frame shaking with the force of mirth. "Tell me about your life at home. Are the Tooks a large family?"

"I've got too many sisters. I should have liked one to be a brother, especially if he were older than I am. Because I'm to be Thain eventually, and Pearl and Vinca and Pim resent the attention I get. It isn't like I asked for it."

"You have my sympathies. Perhaps in time your sister will see that you didn't see the brunt of your parents' love." Boromir pauses, as if thinking of things far away. "And Merry?"

"He doesn't have any of either. I think he's lucky, cousins are better fun anyway."

Boromir laughs again, more than the joke really calls for, and Pippin wonders who it is that Boromir is really thinking of.

"Is Merry really like the people of the plains?"

"Very much. But I think the two of you have luckier fates in store than those whom you remind me of."

A thousand questions jostle again each other in Pippin's mind at those words, but before he can ask even the simplest of them Merry walks near to where the pair of them sit.

"I've finished being grumpy," Merry says cheerfully. "But my hands are cold. Is there room for me under there?"

Boromir and Pippin draw him in close, rubbing at the sore icy fingers until Merry can flex them without pain.

"What were you two talking about so cozy, then?"

Pippin blinks. "How rancid you smell. Boromir asked if it was a thing brought on by travel and I said no, you always had a stink about you."

"Glad I can't smell it myself, then," Merry shoots back with a contented hum, drowsy in the warmth under Boromir's arm.

Pippin chuckles quietly, lapsing into quiet thought for a while.

"Cold isn't as fun without tea and blankets, is it? I shall be glad when we're out of it."

There's no reply, and a glance over at the others shows Pippin that they've both fallen into exhausted sleep. He yawns, following them gladly into dreaming.


End file.
